


Penance

by shellac



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fingerfucking, M/M, Madeleine Era, Rimming, canon-typical religious themes, kinkmeme prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:51:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellac/pseuds/shellac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in response to <a href="http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/9761.html?thread=583457#t583457">this prompt</a> at the <a href="http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/9761.html">Les Miserables kink meme</a>:</p><p>Valjean/Javert - Gratuitous rimming & fingerfucking</p><p>Yep.</p><p>Any time-frame, any scenario. As long as it's consensual (or well, semi-consensual if you'er going for Madelaine era) OP will be pleased beyond words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penance

"You were doing your duty, nothing more. There can be no punishment for that, Inspector," Valjean said mildly, returning his attention to his ledger. 

Javert looked lost, as he always did in the face of kindness. The sternest rebuke, the most depraved insult could draw no reaction from his grim countenance, but extend to him the slightest goodwill and his every vulnerability showed plain on his face for a careful observer to see. Valjean observed very carefully indeed.

"I shall resign, Monsieur. It is the only respectable course of action remaining to me."

"Javert," Valjean sighed, laying down his pen. "It has been some time now since we two diverged from a respectable course, would you not agree?"

Javert flushed crimson, just as Valjean had intended. Even ensconced within the quiet darkness of Valjean's bedchamber, Javert could not bear to hear in plain language the truth of what had developed between the two of them these few months. To allude to it so openly in the relative public of Valjean's office could not other than push Javert to the extremes of disquietude. Valjean himself did not share the sense of shame. Love had been so scarce in his younger days that he could not help but welcome any manifestation of it now, no matter the unexpected forms in which it arrived. Few forms could be less expected than the person of his former tormentor, but Valjean had humility enough not to question God's plan. 

"Monsieur," Javert began and then stopped. Valjean waited, wondering if he had pushed too far. His palms felt clammy. "There must be a penance. You must allow me to perform the penance for this grievous wrong I have done you."

"I am no man of god, invested with the power to sit in judgment on your crimes. Confession must be made in a Mass House, Inspector."

"It is the lord who tells us that forgiveness by the victim must lie at the heart of penance for the crime. I would make my confession to a priest, Monsieur, but you have every right to determine how best I might atone."

"You ask much of me."

"I – I – you are a just and righteous man, Monsieur le maire."

"Then why do you turn your gaze from me?" Valjean asked, coming out from behind the desk until he was standing directly in front of Javert. Beads of sweat had formed along his hairline, the flesh of his cheeks still tinged pink with the heat of his shame. Valjean stood quietly, hands clasped behind his back, ignoring the stirring in his groin. Slowly, with obvious effort, Javert raised his eyes until he was looking directly at Valjean. The impulse to lean forward and cover Javert's mouth with his own was strong, but to do so here would be madness. The hair prickled at the back of Valjean's neck. He dug the nails of one hand into his palm. "Be kind enough to join me for dinner this evening, Inspector Javert," he said finally, voice lower than he had expected.

"Yes." Javert nodded, turned sharply on his heel and left immediately. Valjean pushed his hand against his arousal. 

*

He dismissed the housekeeper for the evening, having determined that Javert should not have even the façade of respectability to hide behind, not this evening. Valjean answered the door himself, admitting Javert without a word and following him through to the parlour. "My bedchamber if you would, Inspector." Javert complied without question. Once inside, Valjean requested that he remove his outer garments, doing the same until both men stood in shirt sleeves and bare feet. Javert moved to extinguish the candle burning in the corner of the room as was their normal habit, but Valjean caught his arm. "Your penance," he said in response to Javert's quizzical look. 

"Monsieur – "

"Your penance is to receive pleasure. That is what may best earn my forgiveness." A long silence followed. Nerves fluttered in Valjean's abdomen. "Let us speak plainly. This accusation you have made, so wildly ill-founded. How am I to believe that it was motivated by anything other than your desire to flee from this situation you find sinful? Answer me truthfully."

"There is not – I would not –"

"You cannot expect I would believe your accusation to have been made in good faith? If you were to turn from me, Inspector, then I would bear it as I must. But a false accusation made to deny your true nature is an affront both to your duty and to God."

Javert's lips were parted, his breath quick. Valjean had been rehearsing these words since they had parted company earlier, hoping that the extremity of the lie would be so great that it would paradoxically appear to be the truth. In these moments, he had found that Javert could be convinced by his tone and his manner as much as by his words. Valjean was in no doubt of the magnitude of the risk he was taking – but if it paid off, the reward would be the sweetest he could imagine.

"I cannot – "

"It was you who entrusted this responsibility to me, Inspector, and it is my honest belief that a just penance must fit the crime. You lied to deny God's love. To atone, you must therefore accept it."

For a moment, Valjean thought he had failed. He could see Javert warring with himself, desire no doubt clouding his capacity for thought. Valjean braced to fight, or to flee, but then Javert exhaled, shoulders slumping forward.

"Monsieur," he said simply, an undeniable assent, and Valjean felt victory surge inside him like the fire of the Holy Spirit. 

"Kiss me," he instructed. He lifted Javert's chin with one hand until they were looking at each other. Javert leaned in, and when their lips met, he made the smallest sound of pleasure. Valjean could hardly hold back, but he allowed Javert to set the pace, understanding that it would serve them both better if Javert was given time to loose himself from the strictures of his duty. Minutes passed whilst they kissed slowly, passion rising until Javert slid his hands unbidden around Valjean's waist, one resting at the top of his buttocks. Valjean was erect, Javert the same, as the insistent press against Valjean's thigh made clear. "Now, Inspector," he said, pulling back from the kiss with an effort, "kneel down."

It seemed he had waited years for this moment. Javert knelt on the floor, bent over so that his head could rest on the bedspread. His trousers and underclothes were around his ankles, his shirt tails pushed high up his back. The sight of him in this position was enough in itself to steal Valjean's breath, the soft candlelight illuminating every inch of flesh that Javert normally concealed. Valjean trailed the fingertips of one hand down the back of one muscled thigh, watching the gooseflesh rise in its wake, and exhaled heavily. "To simply endure a penance is no true atonement, Inspector," he murmured, leaning forward to press his open mouth briefly against Javert's naked buttock, feeling him flinch at the touch. "You must give yourself over to it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," he answered, voice tight. "I understand."

"Good." Using both hands, he parted Javert's buttocks gently. Javert pushed his face further into the bedspread, but between his legs his passion remained obvious. "Your penance is pleasure, Inspector. It is pleasure I willingly give, but you must ask it of me, as you asked me to judge your crime." Javert remained entirely still as Valjean held him open, glorying in the sight of the most private of places, belonging to the most private of men. He could not imagine that Javert had ever allowed this of anyone before, and yet this was only a beginning. In providing pleasure, Valjean would come to know his body more intimately than Javert perhaps knew it himself. The thing could not be undone, then. Valjean would always have this knowledge of Javert, and both would know it, no matter how courteously they greeted each other, how respectably they crossed paths in town, in the Mass House, in the magistrate's chambers. "Inspector," he said softly. 

"Please, Monsieur le maire." Valjean's arousal hardened at the sound of his voice, muffled as it was by the sheets. Valjean allowed himself to lean in, knowing Javert would feel the warmth of his breath. "Please allow me to make my penance, to you and to God."

Valjean could hold back no longer. He drew Javert's buttocks a little further apart and leaned in, allowing his tongue to draw a path from bottom to top. He repeated the action four times, growing accustomed to the taste, strong and masculine, feeling Javert twist slightly underneath him. With care, he focused his attention on the most sensitive of places, first licking gently at the puckered flesh, then pushing more insistently with his tongue, seeking entrance. He had performed this act a scant few times in his life, each of which had been intensely pleasurable, but to take this liberty with Javert's body was a joy of a different degree. He breached the tight ring of muscle. 

"Oh." Javert's voice sounded out, his head evidently turned aside from the bed. "Please," he said again, the word spoken this time with a markedly different character than before. 

Valjean's tongue worked slowly in and out, sometimes withdrawing entirely to lick again at Javert's taint before pushing back inside him. Valjean's own trousers remained fastened around his waist, his shirt buttoned to conceal the brand on his flesh that Javert could not be allowed to see. He gave no thought to his own release, which could come later, the taste of this still in his mouth. After some minutes he pulled back a way, removing one hand from Javert's buttocks. As Valjean wet two fingers in his mouth, he looked again at the man spread out in front of him. His head was turned to the side, so that Valjean could see his eyes were closed, long eyelashes surprisingly delicate against his skin, but his mouth was open, his breath coming in short gasps. Both his hands grasped the bed sheets, but the tension was gone from his grasp as it was gone from elsewhere in his body. He waited, open and willing. Valjean gave thanks to God. 

"Inspector," he said softly, as he pushed a finger with great care into Javert's body. Javert accepted it with ease. "Do you feel pleasure?"

"By God's grace," he groaned softly. "By God's grace – oh – by your hand, Monsieur."

"Good," Javert said, watching his finger move in and out. "I am grateful." He pressed a second finger close alongside the first and pushed again slowly, watching in wonder as Javert's body opened to accept his intrusion. "I am so very grateful," he murmured breathlessly as Javert groaned again. 

There was a place inside a man's body that could be found in this way, Valjean knew, and to touch it could bring a great pleasure. He moved his fingers carefully, searching, leaning in to lick around them at the point where they withdrew from Javert, fastidious in his desire to keep everything moving easily. There was no need now to hold Javert's buttocks apart, and Valjean allowed his free hand to move around to Javert's hip, enclosing the jut of bone it found there. Inside Javert's body, Valjean curled his fingers slightly forward and Javert gasped, pushing back against them.

"Oh please," Javert cried, "I beg of you."

Valjean pressed again, fingers stroking against Javert's body from the inside even as his tongue licked around his taint on the outside, wet heat against his nose and mouth. His heart beat frantically in his chest as his arousal chafed against his underclothes, but everything seemed distant in comparison to Javert, his voice broken, his body demanding. 

"I beg of you," he cried again, sounding utterly lost, and Valjean let his free hand slip forward to take hold of Javert's hardness. It took no more than moments then, Valjean kissing open-mouthed between Javert's buttocks, around and against his own hand, until Javert groaned and shuddered, the warmth of his spend slick underneath Valjean's palm. Valjean rested his face against Javert's buttock, catching his breath as his fingers slowly withdrew from Javert's body. A minute passed, after which Valjean moved both hands to grasp Javert's hips, holding tightly, silently giving praise. A minute later, he felt Javert's right hand cover his own. 

*

He would have kept Javert with him, then, drawn tight against him under the bedclothes through the darkness of the night, but he knew the Inspector could be pushed no further this evening, and Valjean still had his secret to keep. He washed Javert gently with a soft rag and some warm water, as if he were a maid and Javert his master. Afterwards, he bid Javert sit down on his buttocks with his back against the bedframe as Valjean rubbed over his knees, soothed out pains from his ankles. At first, Javert was like one stupefied with drink, but Valjean could tell he had returned to himself as the tension returned to his muscles. Valjean sat back on his haunches then and smiled as naturally as he could, looking directly into Javert's eyes. 

"You have made your penance, Inspector. Please can we have no further talk of resignation? This town cannot continue to flourish without its upholder of the law."

Javert nodded almost imperceptibly. "Monsieur," he said, and Valjean felt his face flush with heat, thinking of how the word had sounded a short time before, Javert's voice muffled by the sheets. 

"Would you care for some bread and cheese before you return to your duties? The housekeeper may have left open a bottle of wine," Valjean asked, rising to his feet and turning his back, allowing Javert the dignity to dress unobserved. Valjean stepped towards the door of the bedchamber, hearing the rustle of clothes behind him.

"I am grateful, Monsieur le maire, but I have been too long from my post as it is."

"Of course," Valjean replied, curling his hand into a loose first. "Duty calls." 

Once they were both fully dressed, Valjean showed him to the door. 

"Good evening, Monsieur le maire," Javert said stiffly. 

"And to you," Valjean responded. They looked at each other for a long moment, during which it seemed that Javert was about to speak before thinking better of it. "Perhaps," Valjean continued eventually, "you might do me the honour of joining me again for dinner later this week?"

For one shocking moment, Javert smiled, full and open, before his expression closed down again. "It would be my privilege," he said solemnly, with a curt nod, before leaving to patrol the streets once more.


End file.
